Sleep Well
by Land of Parchment and Ink
Summary: Balin bids the young princes goodnight for the final time.


**Author's note:** This one's inspired by fanarts I found on tumblr, made by lanimalu. I know I should be updating _Recollections_, but I cannot deny the plot dwarflings frolicking in my head. I needed to write this down because said dwarflings won't stay put and it's not helping the plot pirates to chuck ideas out.

**Warning:** Contains spoilers for The Hobbit: There and Back Again. I felt the need to put this up for I know by experience that some people does not like to be 'spoiled'.

Please don't toss me in the magma of Mount Doom for doing this. Bruinen, Mirrormere, and any body of water with the depth of more than six feet won't do, too. I can't swim.

* * *

They looked so peaceful even at a time like this.

A bittersweet smile made its way on Balin's lips as he gazed at the young princes lying before him. Even as they lay there, motionless, the old warrior could still hear their hushed whispers, see the mischievous grins they threw at each other. Balin knew all too well what those actions meant; he could vividly remember him and Dwalin doing the same when they were but tiny dwarflings, just like Fíli and Kíli did. In remembrance to his own childhood, he was reminded of the sons of Dís' in the process.

He remembered an incident where Fíli and Kíli pelted each other with ink during the youngest's very first lesson in Dwarven history. Kili had been bored immediately and Fili, being and ever the loving older brother he was, decided to help the little one with what to write in his essay when Balin wasn't looking. When the old dwarf reappeared in the room, he was greeted by two energetic and laughing dwarflings riddled with ink on their faces and tunics. They charged at him like warriors, tackled him down the ground, and smeared ink on his face and hair and beard. Balin was shocked at first by their audacity to 'attack' their elder, but one look at their innocent smiling faces and the old dwarf found himself lost in their games as he chased them around, tickling whomever he caught between the two and being jumped at and tickled back by the other.

When Thorin came to fetch his nephews for dinner, he was met by the sight of three giggling dwarves, the oldest looking as if he had grown many a year younger. Balin walked them home that night, ignoring both the exiled king's amusement and the fact that there were ink on his face and beard. He only remembered to wash due to Dís' insistence and Thorin's occasional snorts that the old dwarf knew to be concealed laughter. He remembered checking the dwarflings for the last time before he went back home to his own brother, and he remembered how he tucked them in a blanket after watching how Kíli curled up against Fíli's warmth and how the older dwarfling wrapped his arms protectively around his precious baby brother.

And Balin remembered how he held himself back from bidding and kissing them goodnight. He never thought that he would come to regret that choice until now.

_Now is your chance, _the old dwarf told himself as his eyes remained transfixed on the figures before him.

Balin knelt down and placed a hand on each of the princes' cheeks. His vision blurred with tears upon feeling how cold their skin were. Slowly and gently, he placed a kiss upon Fíli's brow, then Kíli's, and he pulled away, gazing at the siblings with sadness. Dwalin passed him a white cloth moments after, and the eldest son of Fundin accepted it with trembling hands. It was funny how white represent purity and innocence, and looking at Fíli and Kíli now, Balin truly understood the extent of a fierce battle tainting them.

It was not only innocence every battle took from them.

With one last look at their faces, Balin covered the young princes' heads with the white cloth, a choked sob escaping the old warrior's lips as hot tears cascaded down his pale cheeks, only to disappear in his snowy beard.

Fíli and Kíli, the youngest members of the Company, along with their uncle and heir of Durin, Thorin Oakenshield, now slumbered, and the three of them would never be awakened by anyone. Balin wished he could, but he knew that it was only a fool's hope. The three were now in the halls of Aulë to join their ancestors, waiting for the rest of them to follow and be reunited once more. But for now...

Balin smiled sadly and hung his head, his tears clouding his vision of the Lion and the Joy of Durin's Line. And at the sight of the brothers' hands wrapped firmly around each other's until the end, Balin was reminded of the night where he forsook to bid them goodnight. And now was his final chance.

_Fíli and Kíli..._

The old dwarf's broken voice and the words he spoke was more than enough to send what was left of the Company to tears of utter grief and irreplaceable loss.

"Sleep well."

FIN.

* * *

_*bangs head against the wall*_

_Track playing: Stars and Boulevards by Augustana_


End file.
